Fairy Tale
by Kamitra
Summary: The story of a dream that never woke. Fuji.


Title: Fairy Tale  
Author: Kamitra Pairings: None. (Hints for any pairing you'd like to imagine... and there are a lot)  
Rating: PG Genre: Dreams.  
Length: around 700 Summary: a bit of psychoanalysis.  
Notes: The events aren't always in order. I claim the excuse of the work of the subconscious. 

The dream was the same as before, as always.  
It would be like that until it faded from sight with his eyesight.  
But no matter how few minutes had passed since sleep, hwe would never remember what it is that he dreamed.

The 'room' was a house with a metal fence as walls. It was something like fancy dog house.  
He could feel the wind blow through his hair every now and then, and the scent of the grass and dust carried to him.  
In the distance, he heard the sound of tennise balls bounce against the wall, out of rhythym.

Fuji Syusuke always was a lucid dreamer, but it wasn't something he actually cared much about.  
It wasn't as if he had nightmares or anything to disturb his waking moments.  
It was only him, the dog house, the wind, the grass...

Perhaps it was a nightmare.  
But he had never heard of a nightmare that one didn't struggle to wake up from.  
It was a very soothing and peaceful place.  
There was very little to bother him, although sometimes, he wished that his family and friends were there too.  
Wherever 'there' or 'here' was.

Sometimes, he folded pieces of paper to make paper airplanes.  
He threw them, knowing that they would never touch the fence.  
They would float away, carried along the wind into the ever-distant sea.  
Somehow, he knew that his friends were in that direction.  
They were playing volleyball, where Yumiko had buried him and Yuuta in the sand last time, all those years ago.

If there was one thing that got to him, it was the irregular beat of the tennis ball in the background.  
It was obvious that the person couldn't even hit the ball on the sweet spotthe sound wasn't right.  
And when it did hit, the rhythm wasn't right, indicating that the person hitting against the wall would surely begin to crumble.  
He normally would not mind such mistakes, but something about the player he could not see tugged at him.

As the years went by, the person playing got progressively better.  
It became a pleasure to listen to the ball bounce in such an easy rhythm, without letting up.  
It was as if the person never got bored, never got angry, never got jealous.  
He wondered why that was so important to him.  
Instinctively, he touched the fence. It was cool to the touch.

"Would you like to play a match"  
Two years ago, a voice called him.  
It was the first time he had heard a voice since he entered into this place.

One year ago, the pitch in the tennis beats faltered, and once again, the sound faded into the distance.  
During that year, he slept comfortably.  
And yet, he found himself trying to hear for any more sounds, even as none would answer him.  
He forgot to write airplane messages to his brother.

This year, the sound had completely changed.  
He heard the clashing of various matches, sometimes in doubles, sometimes in singles.  
It was as if the person was never really only one, and yet, he was sure that it was.  
But recently... he became aware of another.

"I'll surpass you"  
"I'll crush you"  
"I'll take him away from you."

It was only at that time did he find himself shaking the fence, trying to figure out how to get out.  
Was there ever an exit, or was he born in there to stay?  
He couldn't remember, but it didn't matter he had to get out.

Then suddenly, a golden racket flew through the walls and hit his knee.  
He winced at the pain, but clutched at this new key to the outside world.  
Perhaps he could still play with this injury.  
The fence couldn't keep out anything it wasn't built for after all, so with it, he was free to move.  
But he would have to go back in, because his time was short.

After that, the keys began to come in more and more frequently.  
They weren't always in the form of tennis racquets, but generally, they were.  
Once, the rain drenched him and he found that it protected him from the lines of his own thought.  
And another time, a remote control led the way.  
But always, he returned before the hunters would find him.

Once a bird even came to greet him. It was nice to get a visitor.  
Fuji smiled a bit wistfully as he watched it fly to the tree near the tennis courts.

It wasn't until Syusuke faced Kirihara did he realize that he didn't /have/ to return to his cage.  
Ir wasn't as if he was dangerous, after all.  
And it wasn't him that the hunters were looking for, anyway.

That was Echizen Ryoma.

Just before he finally reached the chain-linked door, he saw something in the corner of his eye when all went black.  
And he finally woke.


End file.
